


"I can't stand to sleep alone..."

by Annabel_Lioncourt



Category: Alien: Isolation (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, I promise the entire second part is funny, human/android, relationships are a mess, the ending is a joke, the whole thing is, title taken from a bat for lashes song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-09 11:50:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12887259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annabel_Lioncourt/pseuds/Annabel_Lioncourt
Summary: Takes place after "Valentine's Day."After waking up alone again, Amanda demands to know, and finds out why her fellow survivor keeps leaving her at night. Chapter One and Two are is fluff/angst, chapter three is supposed to be funny.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [and to xxxthesmittenkittenxxx on tumblr becuase she's having a bad week](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=and+to+xxxthesmittenkittenxxx+on+tumblr+becuase+she%27s+having+a+bad+week), [TheRex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRex/gifts).



Early February 2138, Luna

It’s well known that androids do not sleep. They do not “dream” as humans. There are power-saving modes where their AI can wander slowly; making slight (for lack of a better phrasing) neurological connections between knowledge and perception. Those who do not work in robotics, however, often refer to these as “dreams.” Many Synthetics will not go into this mode unless it is necessary to conserve charge or they are ordered to do so by an operator. They often express a Catch-22 feeling of “I must do this because it is needed” and “I cannot do this because I am needed elsewhere.” Not capable of feeling exhaustion, they have no reason to do this when fully charged, especially when there are better things to do, and work that needs to be done.

           

At least, that was the speech that Samuels had attempted to give Ripley several times when she expressed her disappointment that he left her room after she fell asleep. They had only been back on Luna for barely a week, and in her apartment for four days, because upon arrival, he immediately escorted her to a proper hospital despite her protests.

           

“Where did you go last night?” she asked him her routine question, yawning as she said it, taking her seat at the counter-bar that separated a small living space from an even smaller kitchen area. There was something more off than her usual morning misery. Samuels put a steaming mug of coffee in front of her.

“Careful, its very hot,” he said. “And I didn’t go anywhere, I cleaned and charged all of your power tools, and sorted out your small hardware parts. Your workroom was a disgrace. “

“That couldn’t have waited until morning?” there was no way around it; she sounded genuinely hurt.

“There’s no reason—“

“ _You don’t leave a girl to wake up alone after sex._ ”

“….Oh.” suddenly the eggs frying on the stove seemed very interesting to him; and he broke eye contact with her to finish cooking.

“Yeah. ‘ _Oh_.’ That’s the third time you’ve done that to me.” She was short tempered; trying carefully not to sound too desperate.

“Apologies, I didn’t—“

“Consider it another lesson in being human.”

“I believe that’s the problem you’re facing: my ability to learn or mimic aside…I am not a human.”

“’S such bullshit…” she mumbled.

“ _Amanda_ ,” he considered, but then didn’t push the issue of the human technicality. “Why is it so important that I stay with you?”

“I—that should be obvious. Tap into that endless fount of knowledge you’ve got access to. Closeness, intimacy? Bonding? Couples do that. And well, it scares me that you don’t want to.”

He took down a plate from the overhanging cabinet; put the eggs and toast on it; and set it in front of her. A glass juice, a fork, knife, and folded napkin were already placed before she was out of bed.

“Its not that I don’t want—“

“You said you stayed next to me in cryo; you spent half a year beside me, not sleeping. What’s so different now?”

“Eat before it gets cold—“

“What were you doing the night before last?” she demanded, pushing the plate away from herself.

“Cleaning the apartment,” his answer must not have been what she was looking for; she stood up, the barstool seat falling down behind her.

“This place isn’t that big! You can’t use ‘cleaning’ as an excuse for this!” her voice cracked near the end, and set off an unconscious list of checks from Samuels medical protocols: she was not injured, her temperature was above normal but enough to be considered a fever, yet she was still displaying vocal and facial expressions of pain.

It wasn’t surprising; her emotional and physical duress came and went. There were moments that he had been able to pull smiles and even a few laughs from her. Then there were those where she would wake up screaming—leading him to rush to her room in terror _something has climbed in through the window, someone has broken in_. Moments too, where she would move the wrong way, stretch too far, or put too much weight on an injury and she would wince, sometimes even cry out—remarkable for her high level of pain tolerance.

“Samuels if you don’t want to stay in my room just tell me.” _Surname. She is upset._ As of late, Amanda had taken to calling him by his first name, unique in the small fleet of them employed within Weyland-Yutani’s internal business offices. Hearing ‘Christopher’ in her voice took time to get used to, but he had decided that it was a very pleasant thing.

“You know that I am…ecstatic, overjoyed that you wanted to keep me—and I am honored beyond my ability to express it that you see me worthy of love, human tenderness, touch. I want nothing more than to be by your side as constantly as possible.” If they had been having this conversation a few weeks into the future, he would have learned by then that despite the cold aura Amanda emitted when upset, she craved physical reassurance. At the moment however he did not yet know it, and backed slightly away from her.

“It’s pretty. For someone who’s not supposed to be able to feel anything.” She picked up the stool and sat down again, resting her head in her hands. “Are you uncomfortable with anything between us? Do you have kind of drive or protocol that’s bothering you?”

“Maybe,” he considers. “I do have a bit of coding that’s formed on its own after I wrote out the Seegson material. Its not medical more…of a security protocol set. Its interesting on scientific level that it evolved at all, and I would think vital as something my AI wouldn’t have done if it wasn’t necessary. Rest assured though that nothing you have introduced me to has made me uncomfortable…” synthetics cannot blush, but he still was careful to preserve his coolness when he added, in a confessional tone: “In fact I greatly enjoy the physical aspect you’ve introduced into our—relationship.”

“So you admit that’s what we have? A relationship?” the lines of stress on her face eased.

“It is what we have, isn’t it?” he seated himself across from her at the counter bar, reaching out to take one of her hands in both of his. He inspected it, turning it over to trace the lines of her palm. His own handprints were not entirely unique, only his fingertips, and all had small ‘WY’ logos worked into the whorls. The night that Amanda first noticed them she kissed each one, as if it was enough to brush away another one of the many markers of his body that screamed _this is not a human_. “At the moment I know its what you want…yet I’m terrified—which I shouldn’t be able to be at all—that someday you will come to your senses and tell me to leave.”

“I won’t…if we fall apart then…that happens sometimes, in any kind of partnership. I can’t see it happening to us right now; at least not on my end.” She paused; she didn’t see herself ever wanting him to leave, but the way that he acts… “Like I said; I’m scared too.”

“I’m sorry,” though he thought that Amanda would want him to stop touching her, he held her hand a little tighter. She turned it over and wove her fingers through his; she bit her lip. Either he had lost the ability to hide his emotions, or wasn’t bothering too at this point; the worry was written on him clearly.

“Tell me what you think this security thing is?”

“Oh, that. Its nothing; you’ll only think of it as a bad excuse again.”

“Don’t be like that; I’m really trying here to understand you and to help _you_ understand.”

“Its strange. Though it’s become a relative term in comparison to things I’ve witnessed, maybe strange isn’t it. Odd. I have a compulsion to be sure doors are locked. Windows. The flat’s small, and logically _I know_ that there is not and cannot be anyone hiding—but at the same time should something happen, I need to be out here. Sometimes the neighbors upstairs are enough to alert these new protocols and I can’t _not_ listen to them; I stand out here ready just in case. That was what was different in when you were in cryo…I didn’t _care_ if any of those pirate salvagers were hurt, you were trapped, effectively, in the pod. I needed to stay next to you in case something was on the ship, so I could protect you. Here if something happens you would hear it and be able to leave while I took care of it.”

“Chris…” her hand squeezed his harder, and she fought off the impulse to run around to the other side of the counter and hug him tightly. “What if that’s just your nerves? Some kind of trauma?”

“I can’t develop mental injury or illness—no offense, my dear.”

“I’m going to ignore that. But if you can develop emotions, maybe you can develop other things. I know that you can fear—“

“Still I don’t think—“

“What if we got an alarm system? Not just the outside door lock, but a motion detector, and alarms for the windows? Would that help?”

“Maybe? Amanda you’re irreplaceable, and I know you didn’t want me as a security drone but if something were to happen to you—“

“One thing at a time okay? “ she tried her best to pull a smile for him, but she could only assume it came out as a grimace from his lack of reply. “We can go out today get the stuff, and install it. Then we go from there.”

It took him a second to consider.

“Alright,” he let go of her and walked around the counter to her side, and held out his hands to her. An effortless smile grew on her face as she rose and took the offer. Samuels pulled her closer, but stopped before she was flush against him.

“Hey, you know that you can keep going right?” Amanda had gone through this with him before; his lack of ability to initiate too much contact was part of his inhibitors but they were easing up more and more each day. In the meantime she draped her own arms around his neck. “I’m okay, see? Tell your programming that.”

It was enough, apparently, for his inhibitors to let him go; he held her back, and kissed the top of her head. “I still can’t believe this is happening,”

“Me neither,” she replied. “I’ll get dressed and we’ll leave for the tech mall,” she kept her arms around him though.

“Is something amiss?”

“’Amiss?’ I don’t think I’ve heard anyone say that.” She laughed softly. “I love you. And, no, nothing is ‘amiss, ’ only…I want you to know that I realize whatever we have is not normal but I hope it works.”

“So do I,” he replied, knowing how selfish it was of him to drag this out. Eventually she’ll want him gone, sooner than later most likely, and it will kill him to see her disgusted with herself because of him.


	2. Chapter 2

 “I’ve tested each window alarm twice, the door alarm three times; and I even put a motion detector in the bedroom air vent; what else do you want?” Amanda’s arms were folded across her chest; her face lined with intense frustration. It was late, cold, and she was _tired_. Normally it wouldn’t have taken much out of her, but this was only the second day she’d left the apartment for something other than a doctor’s visit since returning.

“Another night, just to be sure that—“

“And then what?!” she snapped, and then immediately tried to compose herself. “…Sorry. I know what you’ll say; but I can’t sleep, and I’m scared to take a sedative. If you’re with me we’ll both be alright; you’ll be here in case something happens.”

He knows this of course, but the logic isn’t playing through his head as strongly as the ‘what-ifs?’ are. Amanda was as close to begging him as she’d probably allow herself to get. Trying to execute speech or motion became hazy as his forced protocols said _leave her be, you have to watch out for her_ and _listen to her, she’s the human in charge of you_ at the same time.

“Your data loading speed is getting worse you know,” she said softly, noting his unnatural loss for words.

“Thank you, I didn’t notice.”

“Don’t be a smartass.” There wasn’t any humor in her voice.

“It’s a pull between two opposite orders, I’m _sorry_.”

“Give it a try at least? And if some alarm goes off—physical alarm or one in your head, then at least _tell me_ before you leave?” she broke eye contact, with him in favor of staring at that neon wall-clock. She never put new batteries in it after returning home; Samuels ran on perfect time, GMT of course, and never let her stay in bed past nine in the morning.

“Alright,” he conceded. Mentally he was breaking through a company-written firewall in his own secondary computer to re-write the security programs that had gone amuck. It muddled his thought process even more, and it occurred to him that this must be similar to a human headache.

“Thank you,” Amanda looked back up at him. Subtracting the time in cryo , she’d been increasingly close to him for about two months worth of time, and romantically involved for half of that. She could now recognize that his unfocused eyes and furrowed brow were from computational problems. “Chris?” she crossed their room to him and kissed him lightly.

“I think I just had to hack into my equivalent of a cerebral cortex,”

“Are you okay?”

“I had to _hack into_ the inner workings of _my own mind_ to change the corrupted programming.“

“Technically that’s what humans do in therapy; I’m not dismissing the worry but…don’t upset yourself thinking that it’s a problem with you.”

“It is _directly_ a problem with—“ she took his hands and tugged him towards her as she backed up, presumably, to the bed.

“How about I remind you how human you are?” that was her reasoning for introducing sex already: it was something human, something to prove to him (and to herself, if she was honest) that he was real.

“I—not right now, please.”

“…Okay,” she still climbed back into bed, lying with her back against the wall, “You don’t have to tell me, but why not?” he didn’t answer her as he undressed, methodically, and pulled on a flannel set of pyjamas she had gotten him. They still had tags on them.

“Because touching you _at all_ when my mind’s occupied by its own mechanical nature feels wrong.” Turning her down was difficult for a myriad of reasons, the _least_ of which was the physical: Amanda was _beautiful_ , if not a little hollow looking from recent events; more than that she looked disappointed…and upsetting her was the last thing he ever wanted to do.

She was half under the covers in an old faded work shirt, and watching him intently, giving him the feeling that she must have been staring while he changed.

Samuels wasn’t quite sure _why_ she held such fascination for him in that sense; he was designed to be pleasantly average in appearance, but specifically to be unmemorable.

“Its fine if you don’t want to, but we’ve been over this. You’re more than human enough.”

“I’m not; and there’ll never be a time when I am. To let you think that I’m anything more than that is… cruel to you. You have no future with me.”

“I have no future _without_ you. I wouldn’t have a future, literally, if not for you.” She patted the pillow next to hers, “Come on,”

He hesitated slightly before lying down next to her. The last of his artificial breath exhaled like a sigh, and his hand found hers in the sheets. Samuels looked at her guiltily.

“Still…I know that this,” he brought their connected hands up their line of view, “is what we both _want_. But that’s _now_ and not—“

“I _promise_ you if we end, then it won’t be because I’ve stopped accepting you for what you physically are.”

“For as long as this lasts then?”

“Hopefully forever.” She knew it wasn’t forever; that it was likely he could—would—easily outlive her, but leaving him alone wasn’t something she wanted to think about. His eyes never looked so sad before, or maybe she just didn’t notice. “Is kissing off the table right now too?”

It _was_ off the table, but she appeared either exceptionally tired, or else depressed. Of course she was rarely _joyous_ since they’d come home; there was a slow kind of neutral she’d made it too. Easily pushed in the negative direction—survivor’s guilt-ridden misery—and much more difficultly pulled back from it, he had been trying to avoid upsetting her, and trying to go out of his way to make her smile. More than that, the quieter of the two voices in his head was jabbing at him _Amanda Ripley but a once in a million years miracle is_ asking _you to kiss her and you’re really going to turn her down?_ Her breath was cool and soft, and when he inclined towards her she wriggled closer, until she was flush against him; her arm latched tight around him.

For someone who had never done more than shake hands before he met her, he was a fast learner when it came to physical affection. It was likely that he was the only person she ever met who was as touch-starved as she was. His clumsy kisses, artless and innocent didn’t take long to deepen and relax, if not for the fever-heat of his body contrasting with the coolness of his lips, she wouldn’t know him now from a human.

All he could think though was that she would need a human in her life eventually, and maybe she’ll be kind about it and keep him around, maybe she’ll think that letting him run down and fade out so he won’t be aware of her drifting will be kinder. He doesn’t know. All he observes now are her tensed muscles, her tired eyes, and a smile he thought he’d never see directed at him.

Her hair was soft to the touch, messier than he thought it’d have gotten from attempting to kiss her goodnight

“You should sleep,”

“You won’t leave?”

“Not unless I hear something,” she didn’t seem reassured, and though he tried to not use preprogrammed expressions with her he gave her his most trustworthy company-official smile: “I promise.”

“I believe you,” she said softly, her fingers gently curling into the material of his nightshirt.

“I love you.” His words were followed by a slight click from across the room; the lights had shut off.

“Did you just…?”

“…. It;s… a wireless connection…” he said bashfully.

“That is actually really helpful,” she said, a slight smile spread across her face.

 

Samuels monitored her breathing and her heart rate as she drifted off. He wasn’t entirely sure why, because he knew that she was fine physically, only tired, sore. Maybe it was that she was real; her biological heart beating, her real lungs functioned out of necessity, not for cosmetically looking alive as his did. While he had an expert level of detail put into him too, the uniqueness of her freckles, of the print of her lips, were (unlike himself) not to be found on a thousand other faces. _She’s a cosmic miracle_.

Barely touching her, he delicately brushed his fingers against her cheek, down her neck, the front of her shirt…he’d noticed the first time he saw her without it on that she had a set of freckles like the tail of ursa minor. It was far more sentimental than he’d have ever thought he had the ability to be, but from his perspective, they led towards her heart; a guiding constellation sailors a millennium ago used to find their way home, and they were dotting her sternum towards her heart. Amanda wouldn’t mind, of course, if he wanted to hold her while she slept; yet despite the recent intimacies he couldn’t bring himself to without her knowingly letting him _._ Instead, he laid back against his pillow, found her hand once again, wove his fingers through hers—warm, fragile, tense even in sleep—and watched her rest, as peaceful looking as he’s ever seen her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long; I'm writing the punchline of the story literally right now (you thought this was an angsty story? well....it is, but just wait).


	3. the long awaited punchline of the whole story

 

_…two weeks later…_

 

 

It wasn’t enough of a nightmare to shake her to the point of screaming; she’d had far worse ones, and would still have more of them. This was relatively mild in comparison, and as the sirens in her head woke her up, she jolted at the sensation that she was lying down, and not crouched under a desk.

Slowly she came to realize that she was in her own room, her own place, and _safe_ —but that sense of serenity drained quickly when she felt secure enough to open her eyes. Her memory lagged behind still, and didn’t recognize the brown eyes of the person lying close enough to her that they were about all she could see of them

“ _What the f—“_

 _“_ Amy?”

Amanda took a deep breath, reality catching up with her ( _it’s him, just him, it’s okay)_ and rose slightly on her elbows. “How long have you been awake…?” she trailed off.

“The past five hours.” Chris said it as if it was the most normal and obvious thing in the world.

“What—Were you watching me sleep?”

“Of course, this way I can monitor your vitals: I can be alerted if your nightmare is distressing enough to warrant waking you. And I enjoy being around you, why wouldn’t I—“

“Whoa, whoa, _wait_. No. You watch me sleep. Every. Night?” she tried to remain calm, rational. _He doesn’t know. He doesn’t get it_.

“Yes…?”

Amanda pinched the bridge of her noes, and searched for a reply she could give him that didn’t sound rude, or cold, or angry.

“Right, so. Dear. Watching someone sleep—as…honestly romantic and nice as your reasons are—is generally thought of as _extremely creepy_ behavior.”

There was no hiding it: he looked horrified. “Amy—I didn’t—I’m sorry, I—“

“—It’s fine. Really. But from now on, please… lower your power, or read a book, or at least, please, shut your eyes. It’s a little unnerving.”

“…I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Just…now you know.” She lowered herself back down to the mattress, and stayed put for a moment before turning on her side to face him again.

“What is it?”

“You watch me sleep, but won’t touch me when I’m asleep; I’ve never woken up to you holding me. Why?”

“Because I don’t know if you would want me to.” Again, he spoke with a sense of _how do you not understand this?_

“You’re allowed to. I mean, the permission thing is… a good instinct, but for this no, you don’t have to ask.” Carefully, he set his hand behind her neck, an attempt to angle her face up to kiss her, but she stiffened. “Sorry, just don’t touch me there. And that’s not because its you—I don’t…I can’t have anything too snug against my throat yet.”

“Understood.” He tried to offer her a smile to show that he appreciated her explanation; a few weeks ago he might have thought that she didn’t want him specifically doing it, that another weighted android hand on her neck was too much. Now he trusted her that she meant it, that even if he was human that would bother her.

She still moved up on her own, gave him a short, affectionate kiss. “Good night.”

“Morning, actually. Your alarm will go off in several moments.”

“ _Fuck_.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this took me long enough, oops.  
> Anyway, I told you the angst had a reason, and that this entire fic was a set up for a joke.
> 
> The image of him wide awake, watching her with a little smile as she sleeps was too creepy/funny to not use.


End file.
